


First Kiss

by sunflowersandstars (Emmeg)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Boys Kissing, Confessions, Crushes, First Kiss, First Love, Getting Together, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, very slow and rambling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-30
Updated: 2016-05-30
Packaged: 2018-07-11 05:40:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7031299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emmeg/pseuds/sunflowersandstars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My attempt at a Kuroken first kiss.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Kiss

                The taste of dry cotton pervades Kuroo’s mouth making him lick his lips every few seconds. All that is audible are the scratching of lead pencils against thick paper and the soft tick of the bold-framed clock at the back of the room. The classmate to his left is holding his head up with both his hands, creating a sort of visor over his brow and narrowing in on the test in front of him while the girl on his right side is methodically filling in answers, her pencil scraping slowly. With scratching all around him, Kuroo is restless and jumpy, pencil held loosely in his right hand.

The last question, which he is currently staring at, is a short answer and requires one to two paragraphs for full credit. So far he has a mental outline of what he wants to say. Now it’s down to waiting for inspiration to strike for that ever-elusive first sentence. After glancing back at the relentless clock he takes a breath and starts in, scribbling words faster than he can think them.

He finishes before a lot of his classmates. As he gathers up his work, there is a loud sniff from the back of the room and the teacher clears her throat, effectively breaking up the muffled silence. In fit of anxiety, Kuroo rifles through the pages, making sure each question has been answered before setting it carefully atop the pile of completed exams. He smiles at the teacher who barely looks up from the computer and moves quietly out of the room.

Outside the door, Kuroo lets out a gust of air, making his bangs flutter off his face briefly. The finality of completing the exam is making his stomach feel unsettled and his legs wobbly. He rounds the corner and spots the owner of a familiar mop of dark roots and tangled bleached hair slumped against the wall.

“You waited for me?” He asks.

Kenma pushes off the wall and falls into step with him. “There’s construction on some of the train lines. I was afraid I’d get lost.” He explains.

“Not on the ones we take.”

Kenma just shrugs. “I didn’t want to leave without you.”

Kuroo leans over enough to nudge elbows, a smile creeping onto his lips. “Thanks.”

In all honesty he didn’t want Kenma to wait for him, preferring to stew in his own thoughts about the exam on the way home. But he can’t very well complain, and now that Kenma’s here things feel familiar and normal, so maybe it’s a good thing. They walk the rest of the way to the train station in companionable silence before Kenma speaks again.

“How’d the test go?”

“Good. I think.”

“That’s good.” with his phone out to deftly avoid any accidental eye contact with people at the station, he keeps his own eyes trained on the blurred game. Kuroo takes the initiative and corrals him into a turnstile. Together they board the train and find seats.

“I bet you passed.” Kenma picks up the conversation again as people begin filling into the empty seats around them.

“I hope so.” is all Kuroo says.

This was the last test of his third year, and now everything is beginning to feel a bit surreal. This is probably one of the last train rides he’ll have on this route with Kenma beside him. He glances down at his friend, who’s immersed in some weird underwater level on his game.

Leaving Kenma and the rest of the team, going away to university, it all seemed such a distant part of the future until this moment. The train wheels shake the carriage beneath them, and faceless strangers grab for handholds, turn newspaper pages, and click industriously at their phones. It’s all at once familiar and strange, and even though it’s just a monotonous part of daily life, he’s going to miss this. Suddenly he gets an intensely lonely feeling in the pit of his stomach. When he looks at Kenma again, this time his eyes lift from the screen to peer up at him.

“Don’t let anyone look over our shoulders so they can see what I’m playing.” He says quietly.

Kuroo nods solemnly then has to turn his head to cover his mouth with the back of his hand so he doesn’t start laughing hysterically. He’s not sure why the request surprised him, but the lonely feeling is gone now. 

After they get off, Kenma surprises him again by turning in the direction of Kuroo’s house.

“You coming over?” He asks, somewhat delayed since they are both walking the same way now.

Kenma nods and reaches up to pluck a leaf off a low hanging branch in the middle of the sidewalk. The action causes the rest of the thin branch to thunk against the top of Kuroo’s head, spraying them both with leaves and flowering buds.

“Sorry.” Kenma leans over to help brush the tiny petals off his jacket. Making a small motion with his hand, he has Kuroo bend into a kind of bow. “You have some in your hair.” Tingling starts along his scalp as Kenma brushes thin fingers quickly through the stuck-up strands, dumping debris from the branch onto the sidewalk. Kuroo can feel his neck blushing. When he straightens up, he lifts a hand to Kenma’s head.

“You too.”

Kenma leans into his hand while Kuroo scatters the last of the dried stamens onto the ground. His friend’s nose and cheeks are pink from the still-cold spring breeze, and now his blond locks look windblown and disheveled. Kenma notices the staring and shivers slightly while goosebumps travel down his arms.

“You cold?” Kuroo asks once they begin walking again.

“A little” he admits.

It doesn’t take much longer before they are kicking off their shoes and shoving throwing their backpacks onto hooks inside the door of Kuroo’s house. He grabs them both some water and follows Kenma up to his room. Then he watches, amused, as Kenma immediately finds a blanket and drapes it over himself. They settle next to each other in front of the TV and Kuroo starts digging through his shelf for the last video game they were playing.

“Hey.” Kenma has rolled onto his back, phone in his hands above his head in the air. “Do you wanna watch a movie today?”

It seems an odd suggestion coming from him. Especially since he always falls asleep in front of the TV when there isn’t a controller in his hand.

“I guess.” Kuroo hedges. He prefers movies and doesn’t want to pass up the chance. “What are you in the mood for?”

“Whatever you want.” More clacking comes from against the phone’s screen. “Weren’t you going to show me some old classic that started some trend in modern cinema or whatever?” He says in a weird, offhand voice.

Kuroo brightens, “You actually _were_ paying attention?”

“’Course.”

“Yeah! You wanna watch it?” He’s already pulling it off the shelf.

“Sure.”

The movie is an old black and white American film from the late 40’s. It’s one he learned about in a film and literature class back in middle school. He tracked down a Japanese subtitled version and bought it online a few years ago. He’s probably watched it a hundred times since.

They watch as the grainy picture starts up with the customary blaring of trumpets and Hollywood fanfare before the credits begin. Kuroo pulls the comforter from his futon over and lies down on his stomach next to Kenma who’s still cocooned inside his blanket. The credits are still on display so Kuroo pokes the thigh next to him.

“Are you going to fall asleep?”

“Probably,” Comes the expected admission. “I don’t know how you can pay attention to these old ones. They’re so boring.”

Kuroo snorts. “You picked this one.”

Kenma shrugs, making the blanket hood lift off his head momentarily. “You kept saying it was good.”

“It is.” He promises.

Halfway through the exposition of a pretty convoluted plot (it _was_ the 40’s) Kenma shifts so he’s lying lengthwise next to Kuroo’s side and leans his head against his arm. He has an urge to drop a small kiss the crown of his head where the roots are showing. It wouldn’t be the first time he teased his childhood friend this way, but for some reason he bring himself to today.

These small touches seem to be getting harder to pull off naturally anymore. Things like smoothing each other’s clothing tags down, or flicking forehead. Things like that one time in his first year of high school when he’d started clinging to Kenma’s hand during a horror film and hadn’t stopped until it was over. Touches between them just don’t seem to be as easy or as frequent as they had been. He’s not exactly sure what changed.

Maybe it’s because he’ll be graduating and moving out soon. Maybe it’s because they’ve both grown up. Maybe high school changed them more than he realized. Maybe it’s because it wouldn’t really be a tease like the old days. Maybe it’s because he might like Kenma as more than a friend.

Kuroo quickly stops that thought and focuses back on the screen where the leads are coming to a conclusion by speaking in unison. Perfectly in sync. Maybe someday, maybe after some time apart, things will be back to their normal, synchronized friendship. Lulled by the comfort in that thought, the familiar score from the movie, and the heavy, warm weight of a Kenma-burrito slumped against him, Kuroo lays back down and gets lost in the movie.

The climax is getting nearer, signaled by the long clip montage put to big band music. Kuroo heard his parents arrive home just before the montage began and can still hear some distant rustling from downstairs. He’s pretty sure Kenma fell asleep twenty minutes ago, so when he actually speaks from his beneath the blanket, Kuroo jumps a little.

“Kuroo?”

“Hmm?”

There’s a weird hesitancy to his tone that has him stiffening. “Can I ask you something?”

Suddenly his heart is racing. They stare at each other for a moment. Kenma’s hair is a little fuzzy on top from being rubbed against the blanket, making a tiny halo above his forehead. His golden eyes a little drooped with tiredness, and his fingers are doing that nervous twitchy thing they do before games. Kuroo thinks he can see some kind of uncertainty flit across his face before it resolves back into a neutral expression.

“Can I spend the night?”

The question is so anti-climactic, he actually breathes a small sigh of relief and just hopes it goes unnoticed.

“Of course.” then tacks on, “You aren’t in trouble again are you? Last time you escaped your parents I got yelled at too you know.”

Kenma snorts over one of the actress’ pitchy screams. “No. You can watch me call and ask them this time if it makes you feel better.”

“Ok.” Kuroo settles back onto his stomach.

“I like this movie.” Kenma says.

“You didn’t even fall asleep.” Kuroo teases. “I’m glad you like it. It’s one of my favorites.” He wants to go on, explain in more detail why it has become significant in filmography and what it changed in modern cinema, but knows Kenma doesn’t really care.

“I like that you like it.” Kenma mumbles.

“What does that mean?”

“It’s just,” He hesitates, searching for words, “sometimes, when you really, really like something, I start liking it too.” Kenma presses his hands together, fingers perfectly mirrored, then meshes them together harshly. “You’re infectious.”

“Like volleyball?” Kuroo grins.

“Yeah.”

The rest of the movie they spend spread out on the floor, covered in their respective blankets and just occasionally knocking ankles. As the movie is starting to wrap up, Kuroo lies down completely and tugs one of Kenma’s arms toward him. He gives into the pull, allowing his forearm to be handled by Kuroo.

“Your thumb nail is still broken.” Kuroo whispers. It’s an injury from months ago, when volleyball season was finally heating up.

Right now he wants to say so much more though. Wants to thank him for waiting for him after the exam, say how nice it will be to spend the night after being too busy to hang out the last few months, ask if he has started liking himself more just because Kuroo loves him so much.

_Loves him?_

Kuroo slides his hand off Kenma’s arm and fixes his eyes on the screen to where the romance is ratcheting up. Those kinds of thoughts need to be banished. To his shock though, he finds small-ish fingers tickle against the back of his hand. He rolls his palm over and watches transfixed as Kenma trails little patterns down the lines there with his fingernails. The actors onscreen finally swoop into their long-awaited kiss, the hero dipping his lady dramatically in typical 40’s fashion. The tickling against his hand stops and the End Card flickers up uneasily. Kenma simply squeezes the tips of his fingers before letting their hands rest together on the floor between them while the credits roll.

The TV screen has gone completely blank and they are still holding hands. Is that weird? They’ve never held hands except for that one time. He’s going to start shaking with nerves. Maybe he should say something. Kenma beats him to it though.

“Kuroo?”

“Mm?”

“You’ll still come visit after you go to college right?”

“Yeah, of course!” He looks up to see Kenma all laid out and relaxed, head turned toward him and staring distantly at their joined hands. Maybe he should say something now. “I really.” He gulps trying to overcome the knot in his throat. “I’d come back to visit. You’re my best friend.”

Kenma sighs “Me too” then drags Kuroo’s hand over near his face so he can lightly press his lips to the tips of his fingertips.

Is this really happening? He feels like his body has ascended into another realm. Kenma, the best friend he’s had a crush on for actual years is kissing his hand. And yet he finds himself asking, “More than just a friend?”

Kenma rolls his eyes. “Duh.”

“Oh. Well, same.” He breathes out a rushed exhale. “I’ve liked you for a long time.”

Kenma nods and begins tracing over his hand again. “I just realized it kind of recently.” He explains.

“Really?”

“Yaku said something like, you are going to miss me more than anyone…” He trails off and locks eyes with him.

“Yeah.” Kuroo agrees.

They continue to stare at each other for a moment. From the odd angle of having his head on the ground, Kuroo can see the shape of Kenma’s cheekbones and how they sort of roll upward to make his face look rounded.

“So you like me? We like each other?” Kuroo’s not sure why he has to confirm this, maybe just because this all feels like some weird kind of dream.  

Kenma blushes up to his ears and turns his head with the smallest of nods. “You’re sexy.”

Kuroo’s pretty sure his brain short circuited and shut down for a few minutes.

“What?” He finally croaks. 

Kenma doesn’t answer, just continues to stare in the opposite direction.

“You think I’m sexy?”

No answer seems forthcoming. Apparently that’s all the information he’s willing to impart. Instead he unfolds a bit from his blanket and shuffles over so they can face each other again. Then he raises himself up on one elbow slowly before blinking down at Kuroo.

Kuroo feels the dip of Kenma’s body over his own and the taste of his lips as they brush over his. If he were a Hollywood actress he would have swooned.  Kenma likes him. Kenma kissed him. Kenma thinks he’s sexy. Kenma is his first kiss. Kenma. Kenma. Kenma.

After they come up for air all he can ask is, “Do that again?”

**Author's Note:**

> So my sister asked for this pairing for her birthday and I just wrote a little thing. I hope you like it, and if you did, thank her for having a birthday:) https://twitter.com/bakamurachan. 
> 
> Also a little note: I don't think Kenma has a bad relationship with his parents or anything. He probably just hid from them one time after a very teenager-y mistake.


End file.
